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[He nods--looking at her, then back at the quill, then back at her again.]

You know what it feels like, though.

I do.

[ The pencil makes for a good object to fiddle with, which reminds her of the weight in her pocket — something to give him, but it's hardly urgent. It can wait. Knuckle to knuckle, over-under-over, she twirls the pencil idly while she speaks. ]

Sort of, anyway. For me it's less knowing what I have to do and getting it done than it is...something snaps and then I'm watching myself from somewhere else. Like I can see me, I see what I'm doing, but it's not me doing it. And it makes the memory go a bit off.

[ Is it better or worse than being in her body for the experience? Fingers twitch, flex, and release the way they have since last Harvestmere. ]

And I don't think it's ever saved my arse, either.

[Matthias watches her fingers, the pencil. He looks down at the quill again, held in his hands.]

Well, you're still here, aren't you?

[ Sometimes, is what she almost says. Because how can she claim to be here when she's pretty sure the person she used to be died years ago and is huddled in some deep dark pit within her, gnawing at her for want of a grave?

So Athessa presses her lips together into something like a smile and nods. ]

Yeah. I'm still here.

[ But is she a survivor? ]

[He shrugs. So there.]

Then it saved you. Obviously. And that's good, 'cause I wouldn't want to be in Rifwatch without you.

[ That pushes her something like a smile into actual smile territory, and she sets the pencil down. ]

That reminds me, I've got somethin' for ya.

[ She rummages in her pockets briefly and produces a set of woven bracelets. They're not the same as the ones Derrica gave him, of course, but Athessa tried (despite her colorblindness) to use similar colors when she made them. Her own personal touch is a number of carved wooden beads, etched with patterns of feathers and flames. ]

Since your old ones didn't make it.

[Surprised, Matthias smiles.]

Get out.

[He scoots closer so he can take the bracelets from her, turning them over in his hand so he can look at them more closely.]

You made these?

Yep. I mean, I didn't make the fabric, or the leather, obviously.

[ Does she look like she owns a loom? Admittedly, she could have tanned the leather herself but that's a bit overkill for something like this. ]

But I tried to use the same colors as your old ones, much as I could. You know how I am with that stuff, [ See: bad. (Makes sense for Matty to know by now about the whole colorblind thing, waves hands) ] and these bits here are made from plants in the gardens, and I carved the beads myself.

[ From an old wooden halla, long-since broken from being carried around in a pack for eighteen years. ]

The reason for the fire etchings is obvious, and the feathers are...'cos you're ya know. Goin' places or whatever.

Well, yeah, 'course not the fabric or the leather--

[He's not stupid. Take, for instance, how he shuts up and listens to her as she speaks, even though he's turning the bracelets over in his hand and studying them from each angle. Athessa's explanation on the etchings makes him grin, again. He's still grinning when he looks up at here.]

The colors're great. They're brilliant. All of it is, I mean, the beads and all. They're great. Thank you. Like-- thank you, seriously, thanks--

Alright, alright, awright— [ She reaches over and musses his hair before he can thank her any more. ]

That's enough, before you get me all mushy or somethin'.

[ Not that she's currently in danger of that. More likely she'll feel the urge to apologize again, try to explain herself more, put her foot in her mouth, something like that.

So instead, she leans back on the heels of her hands. ]

I'm sorry your other ones got burnt up. And. Thanks for coming with me to that fucker's place to trash it.

[He endures the hair mussing, because it's Athessa, pulling away after a reasonable amount of time with a grin. And he starts tying the bracelets on before he bothers to fix his hair--so you know they mean a lot to him--with this little flame of love and pride and friendship burning away in his chest.]

S' all right, you didn't burn 'em. And you ought to know I'll go anywhere with you. Especially to trash something.

[Largely, one-handed, he gets a loose knot tied, then pulls at it from the other side with his teeth, tightening it up.]

How'd you find out about the house, anyways? No one'd been there for ages.

[ Her own grin of love and pride and friendship etc. dims slightly at the question. He asked it before, in the estate, and she'd waved it off with nothing more than it's a long story.

But it's unlikely that either he or Jenny Lou didn't notice the dried blood on the floorboards upstairs, and the signs of a futile struggle. ]

Do you want the quick version, or the involved one? I gotta warn ya, Matty, it's— [ She chews on her bottom lip, trying to find the right words. ] —Well it's hard for me to talk about. And if I tell you...there's no untelling it, ya know?

[ It's the least she can do to give him the choice, and trust him not to look at her differently. ]

[Self-conscious, he stops pulling on the end of the bracelet with his teeth, and looks at her instead.]

Well--you haven't got to tell me anything. Not if you don't want to. If it's hard to talk about, I mean.

Just that-- we're friends. But I do mean that. We're friends. You wouldn't have to untell me anything, afterward. I'm not going anywhere. If you don't want to, well, you can say that as well. And I'd not press on it or anything. 'Course I want to know, as we're friends, and if it's something-- I dunno, something--I want to know. But--it's yours to tell, I reckon. So

[He does a quick little shrug, then looks back to the bracelet. It is mostly knotted on. Matthias gives it a little twist, once around his wrist. It doesn't drop off.]

[ He wants to know. And he's given her the option to say nothing. It means a lot, maybe more than he even realizes.

She considers it for a long moment after his rambling tapers off, looking at the bracelets and thinking about the wooden halla she carved those beads out of, about the wooden floorboards with the last remnants of Devigny painted on them. ]

First time I ever saw the inside of that place was when I was fifteen. I don't remember how I got there, not really. Um— [ Athessa shakes her head, deciding to skip over the details that follow. ] —Yeah, so...Devigny. He used to take girls off the street and I dunno, wherever else a piece of shit like him takes girls from. And he'd...rape them and when he got bored of them, drop 'em off at the Crimson Cat 'cos the bawd there was in his pocket.

[ She lifts her hands in something like a shrug, or like she's holding out some invisible concept in a box. Ta-daa. ]

I was one of those girls. I dunno if Ciara was, but that's where I met her, too. [ In case he remembers their chat outside of Sonia's party. ]

Trashing Devigny's place has been something I've wanted to do for fourteen years.

Edited (a href tag was broken) 2020-08-26 06:16 (UTC)

[Matthias stops twisting at the bracelet when she begins to speak. He keeps his eyes fixed on it at first, tracing the shape of the beads without touching them.

What she says--her story, brief though it is--begins to take shape, and between the words there's the rest, lines and details that fill in without being said. Quiet hallways with closed doors, facades that hide what's horrible. He's not stupid. He knows what the world is, the shapes that move under the surface and pull you under. And so does Athessa. Which he knew, sort of, not in any conscious way or with any real thought. Just a knowing.

He remembers Ciara, when she says the name--only talked about her the once, but it pulls pieces of that conversation back to him, fits in these new pieces and horribly sets the scenes that he had constructed only vaguely.

There isn't anything to say. This is one of those times where you only listen. Even Matthias, who never shuts up, knows that. He's heard confessions enough to know that. He looks at Athessa, not at the bracelet. Just her.]

I'm glad you did. I'm glad you weren't alone. That I was there as well. [It's not his, the house and everything in it, a thousand shades that Athessa can only see, but she gave him this little piece. She is his friend.] I'm glad you told me. And that it's--that part, I mean, it's over. It isn't. But it is.

I'm glad he's dead and you're not.

Me too. About all of it. [ Her smile is back, not sad or strained or in any way false. It feels good to have him understand and not pity her, and to be able to think about that place as just a house that bad things happened in, rather than some grim spectre looming over her. ]

I think it is, though. Over. I didn't get to kill him myself, [ though she really, really wanted to, ] but I finally got to put my foot down. One final fuck you to him and his stupid house, and that fucking wine. I didn't think I was gonna be able to drink it, actually, but I did, and I mean it didn't taste good but it didn't take me back there.

[ Surprising even herself, she laughs. Disbelieving, full of relief. And when she takes a breath, it feels...clear. ]

He doesn't get to take up space in my mind anymore.

Yeah.

[Softly, and with finality. Not good, precisely. Her laugh is what's good. The rest of it comes after things that happened, even if they shouldn't have--if the world was better, like, if people didn't hurt you because they could, because of a right or because someone said it was right or any other reason--so it's not good, even if it is, a little. There's not a word for it.

He looks back at the bracelet. Gives his wrist a little shake.]

Derrica, she's the one what made the first one of these for me. 'Cause I told her I was-- I don't, you know, think always. Go too quickly. And she said the bracelet would help, that I could look at it and I'd remember, or touch it, and I'd remember.

I reckon you ought to have one. Not-- to remember any of that. To remember that--you know, what you said. That he doesn't get space with you any longer. That sort of remembering. For when it comes back.

[ Athessa hadn't known where the bracelets came from, just that he wore them all the time and that they'd been lost. Hearing that they were important, and that Derrica was the one to give them to him...feels weird.

Mostly, she's happy to know that Derrica cares so much about Matthias, to give him something that mattered to him. Not that she'd expect any less, because Derrica's wonderful, but ya know.

Athessa smiles and tips her head in a considering nod. ]

Maybe. I'm terrible at keeping track of things like that, though. Maybe I should get a tattoo of one instead. A permanent reminder.

They'd just be tied on, you couldn't loose 'em if you tied tightly enough.

[All the same, he brightens at her idea.]

A tattoo'd be brilliant, though. It'd need to be somewhere you could see it, whenever you looked. Around your wrist.

Around my wrist, huh. [ It's silly, repeating him and looking at her wrist like she doesn't already know what she'd get there to ground her. ]

Well alright, then. I guess I'll start looking for a tattooist.

[ She fetches up the pencil again, spinning it around her thumb and catching it in writing position. Show off. ]

So what's next on the list?

[He rolls his eyes a little at the display, but he's got a grin on his face, too, appreciative.]

Right. Erm-- well, more. I want to learn more. Diversity of spells, like?

[ She nods and starts writing, still smiling, happy to help. Together they can come up with a list that sounds right, looks perfect, and that Matthias can defend with his reasons without floundering too much.

And when they're done, as promised, Athessa will return the pencil she pilfered to Flint's desk. ]

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cw: rape mention

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